Painted Friends From Long Ago
by Peeta Melark
Summary: Since Camlann, Merlin has taken to painting. He paints everything from Aithusa to Ygraine, and especially Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, and the Knights. He knows his friends are returning to the mortal world, as he has already met Elena, but he does not realize how many have already come back until Elena's mother asks to show his work in her gallery. The only one yet to return is Arthur.
1. Chapter 1

Painting was Merlin's escape. Unfortunately, it also became his downfall. As the world spiraled deeper into disaster, Merlin painted more and more. Gwen one day, Morgana the next. He liked to paint Morgana before she turned evil, but that was sometimes too hard. He remembered the darkness in her too vividly. So he painted her on her dark throne, clothed in a dusty dress made of shadows and spiders' webs, her hair in ruins.

The Knights of the Round Table also frequented Merlin's art. Sometimes he would set down his brush to see Gwaine grinning back at him from the canvas, or Lancelot staring over his read-cloaked shoulder as he walked to his death. But mostly he just painted Arthur. He liked to think he almost painted him back to life.

One day, as Merlin was showing his current girlfriend's parents around his flat, her mother's eyes rested on his easel. Mordred stared back, bathed in ethereal light, his eyes flashing gold.

"This is wonderful!" she exclaimed, moving to take a closer look. Elena's father went with her.

"Ever thought of, you know, _showing_ your work to the world?" he asked. Merlin admitted that he hadn't, which drew a laugh.

"May I show some of these at my next gallery show?" Elena's mother pleaded, and Merlin noticed for the first time how much she looked like her daughter. Both were petite and pale and blonde, their eyes a dark greyish blue. But Elena's eyes were fiery where her mother's were calm. Merlin almost smiled at the thought, for he remembered Elena being motherless in a past life.

"I suppose," said Merlin, not entirely sure what possessed him to do so. Elena's mother beamed.

"Which ones would you prefer, dear?"

"Mum," Elena interrupted. "Let him breathe."

Merlin glanced at her gratefully, warmth returning to his body, which had gone cold with nervousness. Elena grinned and swept her long hair back from her face, pulling it into a messy ponytail. Merlin thought he wanted to paint her like that. He always painted the Elena of old, claiming it was just a funny daydream of his. He painted her in her yellow dress, her hair messy and that awkward smile on her face. But he also painted her in the beautiful dress she had worn for her marriage—the one that never happened.

"Funny," she would always say, her fingers ghosting along the frame. "It's like something I remember from a dream…"

But now her eyes held none of that dreaminess. Instead, she seemed sad. She looked over at one of Merlin's paintings of Arthur—the young king in armor, a bloody stain rusting the metal where Mordred's sword had run him through. It was the moment he had thanked Merlin… said something he had never said before. _Thank you_.

"How about this one, Merlin?" she asked, stepping closer to the painting, her hand curled into a fist against her chest. "It's beautiful."

Merlin fought to keep his voice from breaking. "Yeah. I… I'm proud of that one."

Elena's mother beamed, about to say more, but Elena cut her off.

"Mum, Merlin and I were going to watch the _Buffy_ marathon on TV tonight. Starts in an hour, and we really need to make the cookies and popcorn. Love you, but bye!"

Merlin would have laughed if he weren't so embarrassed. But Elena was right. They had a _Buffy_ marathon to watch, and his stupid paintings would _not_ be the reason they missed it. If there was anything he loved about this new era, it was _Buffy_. He liked seeing this tiny girl defeat any number of terrifying monsters. And, besides, Buffy reminded him a little of Arthur. It was also the best quality time he had with Elena, since she was always out teaching.

"Well, goodbye then, dear. Tell that adorable boyfriend of yours goodbye."

"He's right here!" Elena cried. "Tell him yourself."

But her parents were gone, disappeared down the dark hallway. Merlin watched as she shut the door and turned around, a bright smile on her face.

"_Buffy_ now?" she asked, bouncing on her toes. Merlin fought a giggle.

"That's in an hour, sweetheart. Cookies, maybe, and popcorn. Then turn on the TV. Then _Buffy_. Yeah?"

"Yeah!" Elena hopped up and down before running into the kitchen, socked feet sliding on the wood floor. Sometimes it was hard to believe she taught something so graceful as dance. As she raced about making cookies and popcorn, Merlin went to his easel and set up a new canvas, a new palette of paints. He wanted to paint Arthur, but Morgana's smile stuck itself behind his eyes until it was all he could see. After some deliberation, he started to paint, the soft curve of Morgana's smile forming as if by its own will. When he stopped, Elena was already on the couch in front of the TV, a tray of cookies and popcorn on her lap. The TV was on, and the show had already started. She smiled at him as he sat down and took a cookie. It was warm and tasted like pure happiness.

"You're a goddess," Merlin said. Elena leaned against his shoulder, and he could feel her smile through the fabric of his shirt.

"I know you don't really think so, but thank you," she said. Merlin wondered what she meant by that.

**A/N: I swear the next chapter will be longer and better. I just had to get this story started or I never would at all. **


	2. Chapter 2

The gallery opening was nerve-wracking. Elena forced Merlin into a suit and ran through his hair with a brush, then she made him turn this way and that so she could make sure he looked perfect. Then she changed into a knee-length yellow dress and a white cardigan. She even pulled her hair back with a couple of sparkly clips before giving Merlin a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You'll be fine," she promised. "Just be yourself."

Merlin gave a nervous laugh. "Awful advice, sweetheart, but thanks."

Elena smiled. "I do my best." She glanced at the clock. "We'd best be going. Mum'll totally freak out if we're not on time. Come on."

Elena's mother—Elizabeth—greeted them with hugs and kisses at the door of her gallery, and then ushered them inside. She chatted excitedly about who would be coming to the opening, and proceeded to ask Merlin if he liked where she'd put each painting. Merlin nodded absentmindedly, his eyes catching on one of his most recent paintings—Gwaine and Arthur mid-laugh, their eyes half shut. He remembered that moment so vividly it hurt. But a second later, that feeling was gone. He glanced at Elena, who was standing in front of one of his paintings of her, smiling dreamily.

Guests arrived at six o'clock sharp, and nearly everyone had questions for Merlin.

"Why these legends?" asked one elderly man, tapping his cane impatiently on the floor.

"Well, my name is Merlin," Merlin offered. "And I'm just passionate about the stories. They're… beautiful."

"Who are the models?" asked a young woman. "I _swear_ I went to school with her." She pointed to a portrait of Gwen.

"No one," Merlin admitted. "I just… their faces just sort of made themselves."

A thousand other questions erupted from that one simple answer, and Merlin was almost certain he was going to throw up. But then there was Elena, her hand on his elbow, her voice rising to quiet the torrent of questions. She led Merlin away to the back of the gallery, where she sat him down and got him a glass of water.

"I know how you feel," she offered. "I mean, I felt like this after my first choreographed piece. I just wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. It was all questions about why that spin was there, and why that step was—Are you _sure_ you're all right?"

Merlin nodded. "I'm fine."

Elena helped him up. "I'm sure," she said. She sounded sad… again.

~O~O~O~O~

"Are you the models?" Merlin heard someone say. He whirled around to see Elena's father addressing a group of young men and women, each one achingly familiar. At the head of the group, a dark-haired young woman with glittering green eyes was looking steadily into the older man's eyes, while the dark-haired man at her side had his eyes fixed on a painting of Mordred.

"My god, is that _Mordred_?" he exclaimed. "Why is he glowing?"

Merlin felt like he was going to be sick. That man was Gwaine. He _had_ to be Gwaine.

"No… No, they're not my models," he said. He wanted to say he'd never seen them before in his life, but that would be a lie. Better to say that he had not seen them in this particular lifetime, not in the general timeline that is 'life.' Immortality was annoying at times.

"I've never seen him before in my life!" cried Morgana. She sounded slightly insulted, but then she always had. Then she smiled at Merlin. "These are beautiful."

"Thank you," he managed. "Would you like me to tell you about any in particular?"

Morgana's eyes lit up. "Yes, please." She broke away from the group and led Merlin to a painting of the old Morgana, dressed in her dark dress, a ring of fire around her.

"This one?" Merlin asked. Morgana nodded.

"Who is that woman?"

"Oh… Her name is Morgana."

"That's my name."

"I know—" He broke off abruptly. "I mean, is it really?"

"Morgana le Fay?" Morgana asked. "From the old legends, right? She was the queen of the faeries…" She shuddered, reading the plaque. "_Morgana—High Priestess of the Old Religion_."

Merlin stared around the gallery, his own work suddenly horrible. He hated the way they all seemed so alive, the way Arthur stared back at him with those piercing blue eyes. He could almost stand to see the images of death, the pain. But he couldn't bear to see the smiles. Each one ripped into him like a serrated knife, until he wanted to scream. All he could think was that he had to find Elena. Elena could help. She could get him out of here, away from the people who looked too much like his friends. But then again, so did she. Elena looked just like she always had, just more… contemporary. How could he look at her without remembering Arthur?

"Are you all right?"

Merlin looked at Morgana warily, though she had done nothing wrong so far. Still, he couldn't help but feel she was _going_ to. So many years spent keeping these monsters at bay, and they were all coming back to haunt him, more terrifying than ever before.

He would have to leave. That was all there was to it. If Elena would be a constant reminder of his past, then he would take his paintings and go. He couldn't leave his paintings behind. No, they were too much a part of him. But he couldn't stay, not when his old friends were returning.

He was about to turn and leave when Elena caught sight of him. She pushed through the crowd until she was right in front of him, blocking his way.

"Merlin? Merlin, what's the matter?" She grasped his wrists, holding on as if she knew what he was doing, where he was going. He didn't try to get away. Where was the point in that? Elena was strong. She could keep her grip.

"Elena, I'm so sorry," he said. His voice cracked and Elena's eyes narrowed.

"For what?" For a moment, she sounded just like the old, clumsy Elena.

"I can't… I can't…" He let out a sob as she led him into a storage closet, shutting the door behind them. "I'm so, so, so, sorry…"

"Shhh!" Elena pulled him into her arms, cradling his head against her shoulder. She kissed the top of his head gently. "Merlin, don't try to explain. It's all right."

"It… is?" Merlin had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I understand if you don't… want to be with me anymore. We can be… we can be friends." She sounded hurt, sad. Merlin looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. Part of him wanted to accept that offer, but the look on her face made it impossible.

"I couldn't do that," he said. "Not to you, Ellie. You're too good to me."

Elena smiled, relieved. Of course, Merlin had to ruin it.

"I was going to leave," he admitted. "Before you found me. I think I panicked. I've never… had so many people looking at my work."

Elena's smile nearly faded, but she kept it on her face. "Of course, Merlin," she murmured. "I understand."

Merlin wondered if she really did.

**A/N: Merthur or no Merthur…? I mean, it's basically canon, but I don't know… **

**Do you all like this so far?**

**Suggestions?**


	3. Chapter 3

Elena went back to her parents' home three months later. Even as she packed and left, Merlin wanted to call her back. But he knew she was right. Before she left, she told him it wasn't working, and maybe it never had been working. She was gracious and kind about it, and she certainly wasn't upset. She seemed relieved, like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Merlin felt it, too. Since Morgana and the others had appeared at the show, Merlin hadn't been the same. He was distant and irritable, and he painted more than anything else. He couldn't blame Elena for packing up and heading back home. Instead, he slipped a painting in with the rest of her stuff. It was of her, just as she was in the contemporary world, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. It had no title, so he called it simply 'Elena.' He saw tears in her eyes as she packed it into the moving van.

"Bye, Merlin," she said, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," he said. "And if it means anything, I'm sorry."

Elena laughed and brushed a tear from under Merlin's eye. "For what? You didn't love me."

Merlin shook his head. "You're still my best friend. You always have been."

Now it was Elena's turn to shake her head. "I know, Merlin, but we both need to stop pretending we're going to get married and have nice little children in a sweet little cottage in the woods. It's not our destiny."

Destiny. Merlin shuddered. He had heard enough of that word for a lifetime. As Elena turned and left, he wondered what he would do with the extra space in his flat. He would probably just find a roommate. One he didn't care about, preferably, so he wouldn't be so upset if they left. Still, Elena was right. He didn't love her… not like that, and maybe he never had to begin with. It was best to let her go.

Three days later, when he got the call from Morgana, he almost didn't pick up. But he did. Her voice was soft and bright, with a sweet Irish accent and a smile to every word.

"Hello, Merlin?"

"Speaking," Merlin said, though he wasn't sure why. Who else would pick up his cell phone? Elena was gone.

"Hey, I don't want to impose, but do you think I could come by and look at some of your paintings? They're really quite special." She sighed. "And I have some questions."

Merlin felt himself go pale. "Sure," he said. "Sure, why not? How far away are you?"

"Just down the block, actually. I was shopping, and I couldn't find anything, so I figured I'd make friends instead. I'll be there in about ten minutes?"

Merlin agreed and hung up, staring about his flat in dismay. It was a wreck. Elena's moving process had thoroughly torn the place apart, leaving paintings stacked against walls, furniture out of place, and several scratches along the walls. Merlin could only hope Morgana wouldn't mind.

The doorbell rang, and Merlin raced to get it. When he opened the door, he was faced with a moment of panic. Morgana looked just as she always had, with her pale face, green eyes, and dark curls. But she seemed so much kinder, as if the centuries of sleep had changed her somehow. She peered into the flat before walking in, heels clicking on the wood floor.

"This is lovely!" she chirped. "My goodness, Merlin, there are so many of them! You're a _wizard_!"

Merlin laughed. "Warlock, actually," he said, and then stopped himself. Morgana turned around, her cheeks flushed from the cold she had just stepped out of.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

Morgana drifted over to a painting of Arthur, her long skirt swishing around her ankles. Hesitantly, she leaned in to take a closer look. "Remarkable…"

"What?"

Morgana shook her head, laughing softly. "It's nothing, I'm sure, but this…" She gestured to the painting. "He looks exactly like my brother. And this one looks like… like me."

Merlin looked at the painting she was pointing to. It was the old Morgana, her face lit up with laughter, her heart filled with goodness and light. But the background was dark, and tendrils of it crept towards Morgana, pretending to be her hair, her eyelashes, the pupils of her green eyes. And yet she was not afraid. She stood and laughed, not at all shying away from the darkness that fought to infiltrate her heart and soul. Perhaps she _wanted_ the darkness to take her in. Perhaps the light was too bright, too painful.

"Who was she?" Morgana's timid whisper broke Merlin out of his thoughts. "Why do you paint her here, like this?" She rushed forward and took Merlin's hands in hers. "Please, Merlin, I have to know. The others, they don't understand, but I've had these horrible nightmares. I keep seeing _her_."

"Seeing who?" Merlin asked, though he did not need to. He knew who Morgana was seeing, and what she was seeing that other version of herself become. He knew he had to help her, too, but that didn't make him want to. He remembered too vividly the monster those nightmares had made. But if this Morgana had magic… surely there was a chance to bring her to the side of good.

"That woman," Morgana whispered. "I didn't just come to see your paintings, Merlin. I came to you for help. I _need_ you to help me. Please. Maybe I'm going crazy. Gwen thinks the 'uncanny resemblance' has set off something in my imagination, but it feels so _real_. I'm scared."

Merlin hugged her to him. He barely knew this Morgana, but he knew he needed to help her. So he led her to a chair and sat her down before making a cup of tea. As he put it into her trembling hands, she smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Merlin." She took a sip of the hot liquid and shivered. "I'm sorry… Falling apart like this. I don't know what's come over me!"

"I do," Merlin said, sitting down in the chair across from hers. "Morgana, I'm going to sound crazy, but you have to trust me."

Their eyes met and Morgana smiled. "I do, Merlin," she said. "God only knows why, but I do."

"Then there's something I need to tell you."

**A/N: Enjoy! If you have suggestions, questions, or anything like that, just leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Morgana sat in stunned silence while Merlin fretted and paced about the tiny living room. He wanted to comfort her, but she didn't quite look like she needed or wanted comforting. Maybe _he_ was the one who needed comforting. He had, after all, just told her he had magic and that she might have magic, too. Part of him was afraid she would call the police and have him locked up for being insane, or for trying to make her believe his mad theories, or something like that. But she didn't make a move for her phone, and she didn't seem so scared. In fact, she seemed incredibly calm for someone who had just learned all the evil of their past life. When she spoke, she was very quiet.

"I did… all that?"

Merlin nodded. "Probably more… out of Camelot, I mean. I didn't have time to follow you everywhere."

She shook her head. "I would never… Not now… My father… He has _never_ kept secrets from me. He's not cruel like that. He is _not_ the Uther you described. And I am not that Morgana."

"I never said you were," Merlin said gently. "I don't think you were working for your own goals. There was something… empty about that Morgana. There's nothing empty about you."

Tears slid from her eyes. She wiped them away quite violently and folded her hands on her lap. Tersely, she thanked Merlin for letting her come by. Then she stood to leave. Before she could reach the door, however, Merlin grabbed her elbow and swung her around, looking into her eyes again.

"Morgana," he pleaded. "Let me help you. I know what you're going through."

"No," she said. "No, Merlin, you don't. But thank you for trying to understand. Would you join my brother and I for coffee tomorrow at one? You'll love him."

With that, she was gone, the door slamming behind her. Merlin stared after her for a moment, He wished he hadn't told her, but there was no taking that back now. Besides, it was probably better that she knew. It meant he had a chance to help her. He had failed her in another time, and he wouldn't do that now. It was his destiny to serve the Once and Future King, and he would not fail that destiny. Morgana was part of that destiny, wasn't she? So he would help her in any way he could, even if she did not want his help.

His phone buzzed, making him jump. It was a text from Gwaine, one of the few people from the gallery show he'd stayed in touch with. Merlin wondered if he should just ignore it, ignore all of it, and pretend these things weren't happening. Maybe if he pretended hard enough, he could make Morgana and the rest disappear, his destiny with them. But Merlin had never been able to escape his destiny, so he picked up the phone.

_Hey, Merlin. It's Gwaine. How are you?_

He smiled. In the past three months, he'd become quite friendly with Gwaine, even having lunch or dinner with one another every so often. So Merlin texted back: _I'm good. You?_

_I've got a date_, was Gwaine's cheerful reply.

_Oh?_ Merlin wrote. _With whom? Where are you going?_

_Call me_, Gwaine said. Merlin did. Gwaine sounded ecstatic when he picked up the phone.

"Merlin, you'll never guess what happened," he said.

"Someone asked you out." Merlin winced at the harshness in his voice, hoping Gwaine wouldn't hear it. "Who?"

"Ah, I have to tell you the whole story."

"Go for it."

"Okay, try to keep up," Gwaine said, and he launched into a complicated story that was oddly reminiscent of the poem _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_. Apparently some guy had arranged a 'challenge' where someone would punch him in the face and then he would punch them in the face three days later. Well, seeing as this guy was a gigantic guy, no one volunteered… except for Gwaine. Of course, Gwaine was brave (or stupid) enough to whack said guy in the face, and also brave enough to show up three days later. As it turned out, the guy had no intention of punching anyone in the face, especially not Gwaine. He had just wanted to see who was brave and true enough to accept. Then he proceded to ask Gwaine out to a movie, or Gwaine asked _him_ to a movie. Merlin wasn't to clear on that part. Anyways, Gwaine was supposed to meet him—Percival, apparently—at the movie theatre at five-thirty.

"Do you want to come by afterwards?" Merlin asked. "So I can—"

"You're not going to quiz him on chivalry, are you?"

"You read my mind."

"Sure. I'll drop by for a few minutes with Percival. Seven-thirty, then?"

"Sounds like a plan." Merlin paused. "You know, if it all works out, I'd love to paint you guys."

Gwaine laughed. "You go ahead and paint anyone you like, Merlin. See you later."

Merlin listened until he heard the familiar _click_ that meant Gwaine had hung up. Then he turned to his easel and sighed. So Gwaine and Percival had found each other once again. It was only a matter of time, he thought, until everything would start to fall apart.

"What am I going to do?" he whispered, picking up his brushes and paints. It was unsurprising that Mordred's face began to materialize on the canvas in front of him, and unsurprising that his face was shadowed with every ill thought Merlin had ever thought of him, ever projected onto the real Mordred. Had things been different…

No. Merlin pushed the thought aside. Mordred had been evil in that other time. That was _not_ Merlin's doing. He had _not_ been the one to 'turn Mordred evil.' Mordred would have done it of his own accord anyways. It didn't matter that Arthur's bane had been Arthur himself. Perhaps that all-knowing creature had been wrong. Perhaps the Great Dragon had been wrong. Perhaps everyone but Merlin had been wrong. Perhaps all the knights were wrong, though surely _one_ of them would have seen the truth had it been there. But destiny was destiny. Mordred's destiny was to kill Arthur, and Merlin had been powerless to stop it. He would do better now, he promised, even if Arthur did not recognize him.

**A/N: Next chapter, Merlin meets Arthur. Here is where I present a question: What ships would you all like me to write in? Aside from Percival/Gwaine, I have nothing set in stone right now. **


	5. Chapter 5

The café Morgana had chosen was only a few blocks away from Merlin's home, and a place he was very familiar with. He used to go there every Tuesday and Saturday with Elena. But Elena wasn't waiting for him now, nor was she standing next to him. He was alone, staring at the small pool of faces, looking for anyone who might look like Morgana.

"Lost, Merlin?" Her voice came from behind. When he turned around, she was smiling. "Merlin, this is Arthur. Arthur, Merlin."

Merlin barely had to look at Arthur to know he was virtually unchanged. He was as blonde as ever, as handsome as ever, and he wore the same smug expression as the old Arthur. Merlin remembered the first time they'd met with a smile. Arthur had, as he put it, tried to take his head off, and Merlin had stopped him with magic. As they looked each other up and down, Arthur frowned.

"Merlin, was it?" he said, furrowing his brow. "You look very familiar; have we met?"

As much as he wanted to say they had, Merlin could not. So he said, "I get that a lot," and that was the end of it for the time being. Arthur nodded, agreeing that that must be it, and they went into the café. Morgana drove the poor hostess crazy making sure they got a table near one of the gigantic windows, but it was well worth it in the end. As they sat and drank their coffee—or tea, in Morgana's case—they stared out the windows and chatted aimlessly, trying to get to know each other.

"So, Merlin," Arthur said. "My sister tells me you're a painter. Any truth in that?"

"Quite a lot, I'm afraid. How about you?"

Arthur made a face, but managed to keep his voice fairly even. "I work for my father. Lawyer, actually." He looked embarrassed. "It's sort of… been my family's business since… the beginning of time, really."

Morgana cut in anxiously. "I'm not a lawyer!"

"Really? And what _are_ you, Morgana! Do tell." Arthur was grinning, and Merlin realized he had the same smile. It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Centuries later, Arthur Pendragon still looked the same… still had the same smile…

"I'm in a band," Morgana said proudly. "We call ourselves Arthur's Bane."

"Oh yeah?" Merlin laughed. "What do you sing about?"

"Arthurian legends." Morgana's voice fell. She gave Merlin a meaningful look across the table. "I guess I've always felt a certain connection to them."

Setting down his cup of coffee, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Morgana used to think she was a reincarnation of some other Morgana. Said she used to dream about her. Though, seeing as Morgan le Fay was an evil witch, that seems about right."

The rest of their lunch was eaten to the sound of Morgana and Arthur bickering. Merlin fought desperately to stay in the present, but scenes of the past kept filtering in through his careful barriers. Suddenly he wasn't looking at the new Morgana and Arthur, but at the old ones. It was too much. Gasping, he dropped his coffee and put his face in his hands. Arthur's worried cry broke through the manufactured silence.

"My god. Merlin, are you all right?"

Before Merlin could speak, Morgana came to his rescue. "Arthur, you stay here and pay. I'll take Merlin out for some air. Meet us?"

Arthur agreed, and Merlin found himself being half carried outside. Morgana's arms were strong and steady around him, keeping him upright, helping him to walk until they found a bench. Morgana sat him down and crouched in front of him, her hands on his face, looking for a temperature.

"Merlin?" she called. "Merlin, can you hear me?"

He blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"I think you panicked," she said. "Don't worry, I'll come up with some story for Arthur. What happened?"

"I… couldn't look at him," Merlin admitted. "He was my friend in… in Camelot, and he—"

"And he will be your friend now." Morgana took his hands in hers. "Merlin, look at us. We were enemies then, but I don't think we will be enemies now. If we are not enemies, then there is nothing for Arthur to fear. We do not live in a time of dragons and magic… tyrannical kings… Arthur is safe. Look, he's all worried about you over there."

She indicated where Arthur was standing, watching them from a distance, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. When he saw Morgana pointing, he took it as his cue to hurry over and kneel on the sidewalk in front of Merlin, next to his sister. His eyes were so blue and concerned that Merlin had to fight back a laugh.

"Merlin, you scared me. Morgana, are _all_ your friends like this?" He mimicked his sister, saying, "'Oh you _have_ to meet _Merlin_! You'll _love_ Merlin! Arthur, are you _sure_ you don't know anyone named Merlin? He's so… collected; you'll see!' As if, Morgana. As if. Where's Gwaine when I need him?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin said quickly. Morgana glared at her brother.

"Arthur, you have _no_ manners. Aren't you going to ask Merlin if he's feeling better?"

Arthur looked sheepishly down at the pavement. "Merlin, are you all right now?" he asked slowly. Merlin nodded.

"Fine. I… My girlfriend just moved out… for, well, forever, and my grandfather isn't well. I guess I got overwhelmed."

Arthur nodded. "Oh, I'm sorry." He paused before adding, "My grandfather died when I was eleven, but I remember that feeling. Didn't have a girlfriend then, so I guess I can't relate fully, but there you go. It was nice meeting you, Merlin, even if you _did_ act like a complete _idiot_."

"Arthur!"

"What? It's _true_."

Morgana stood quickly, pulling Arthur with her. "I'm so sorry about him," she said. "Hasn't changed a bit, has he, Merlin?"

As she marched off down the street, dragging Arthur behind her, Merlin heard him cry, "Since _when_ haven't I changed, Morgana, and _why_ are you asking _Merlin_? What does he know about me?"

_All too much_, Merlin thought. _All too much_.

**A/N: So… I have a dilemma. I love Arthur/Gwen, but I also love Gwen/Morgana and I am somewhat fond of Merlin/Arthur. I have no idea what to do. Next chapter, however, will be an introduction to Gwaine and Percival (as well as some other knights). **

**I hope you all enjoyed this! Suggestions, questions, or comments are, as always, welcome. **


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